


The Skewering of the Demon Crawley

by obaewankenope (rexthranduil)



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Blood and Gore, Bottom Crowley (Good Omens), Dubious Consent, Extremely Dubious Consent, Hardcore, Large Cock, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Violent Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-28
Updated: 2020-11-28
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:28:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27761512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rexthranduil/pseuds/obaewankenope
Summary: Crawley reports to Lucifer about his work in the garden. He has a strange smell about him. It's the beginning of the end times from there.
Relationships: Crowley/Satan | Lucifer (Good Omens)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 38
Collections: Unhealthy Lucifer/Crowley fics





	The Skewering of the Demon Crawley

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not sorry. I blame the Dark Omens channel in the Ace Omens because I am an innocent innocenter.

Returning from earth to the dark, dankness of hell is, as usual, not enjoyable but it’s becoming normal enough that Crawley can ignore his distaste for the decor. He’s back from an Important Job and he’s been ordered to report directly to The Boss Himself about it.

Something about Credit Where Credit’s Due. Crawley doesn’t much care. His mind is on that angel he met.

Either way, meeting Lucifer Himself in the room the King of Hell has carved out with his own power is enough to keep Crawley’s focus entirely on his Boss.

Lucifer is seated in his throne, looking like a regal king of man, otherly and untouchable. His form is thinner than Crawley would have expected the King of Hell to adopt, but it suits him. He’s tall, lithe, but the power contained in that form is such that even if he appeared no taller than a child, Crawley would not hesitate to prostrate himself immediately.

Black hair that flows down to the waist, shining with lustrous spots of white and red Grace, draws Crawley’s eyes immediately. He cannot help but stare at his Lord King. With reddish skin, the black hair grabs attention as surely as Crawley’s serpentine gold eyes do.

“Crawley,” Lucifer says, raising a fine arm with long, claw-tipped fingers. “Come forward and tell me of your work.”

“Yes, Lord Lucifer,” Crawley says, coming to stand before the throne, a few feet away out of respect and fear. He will speak of his deeds, his infernal work, but he will not speak of the angel who was... _kind_ to him. “The humans, Her pets, are exiled from Eden. I convinced the woman, Eve, to eat from the Tree of Knowledge. Her husband did also. Humanity is no longer Favoured in Her Eyes.”

“Hmmm,” Lucifer stares down at Crawley who averts his gaze. He has been staring at his Lord King and that is a Bad Thing To Do. “Look at me, Crawley. I enjoy your eyes upon me.”

Crawley can’t refuse this. He wants to but he _can’t_.

He raises his head and stares at The Boss.

“Better.”

Lucifer stands suddenly and Crawley wants to move back, move _away_ , but Lucifer is moving already and Crawley has not been told he can move so he _can’t_.

“I find your actions commendable, Crawley,” Lucifer says conversationally as he steps around Crawley. “Eyes forward,” he adds when Crawley tries to turn and watch him as he has been ordered.

Crawley turns to face the throne. He keeps his eyes on it. There is something magnificent about it. There’s gold and silver and blood and bone and its all just material things really. But there’s still something that punches into Crawley’s core and awes him.

Perhaps it is Lucifer’s Grace?

“Good.” Lucifer hums behind him. “You did good work, I’ll admit that. Very inspired to make the woman question Her. And to have both exiled! Wonderful. Truly wonderful. I’ll give credit where credit is due, of course, but...” Lucifer’s voice trails off.

Silence falls in the chamber and Crawley so desperately wants to _turn around_ because he’s afraid and unsure. Lucifer’s voice had fallen from the light conversational tone to something darker, colder. Something closer to anger.

Crawley is afraid because he _has_ done something to deserve that anger. He doesn’t want to admit it.

He is afraid of what will happen if he admits it.

"Tell me, my dear Crawley, why do you smell so disgustingly _pure_?"

Lucifer's voice is all around him, clinging to his skin like water droplets, icy and shiver-inducing. Crawley cannot help the way his body, damned thing, shakes at the sensation. Fear is a constant companion in the depths of the newly-made Hell that is nestled in the heart of all the fresh-off-the-press demons.

Fear of Lucifer's attention, Crawley thinks, is an old fear that stems from _Before_. Why? He doesn't know. But it is and it makes his form tense and shake even as he holds it still with the force of his will alone.

"Well, your evilness," Crawley says, biting the nervous shake of his voice away with sharp constants, "I had to sneak around Her new playground for a while before I could get those humans of Hers to Sin. Must be some trace or something like that. Nothing some time here won't solve.

Lucifer hums. "No," the King of Hell drawls, still unseen to Crawley's eyes and that's the most terrifying thing of all; he can't see him! "It's more than that. It tastes like—"

Crawley finches at hot breath on the back of his neck.

"— _Divinity_."

“I- My Lord King Lucifer-” Crawley fumbles for an answer, an _explanation_ but he doesn’t have one. He doesn’t have one _and Lucifer knows he doesn’t_.

“Now, now, Crawley,” Lucifer murmurs into his ear, form coalescing around Crawley’s own, holding him in place. Pinning him in place. “I understand the desire you feel for another, I too have felt it. There’s no shame in it.”

The tip of Lucifer’s nose presses lightly beneath Crawley’s left ear. It makes him shudder.

“M- my Lord King?”

“Yes, Crawley, I know what you feel, I _understand_ ,” Lucifer croons in his ear and Crawley cannot help the way his entire body shakes at the hot breath on his ear and the words Lucifer speaks.

“I can help you with this burden, dear Crawley. Let me help you.” Crawley gasps as a hot tongue traces the shell of his ear. “Please, Crawley, let me _have_ you.”

His eyes slip shut, neck tilts and head falls back. Crawley cannot help it. He _can’t_.

“Yes,” he gasps. “Yes, my Lord King! _Yes_.”

A deep rumble in the chest pressed against his back is the response to Crawley’s permission. The tongue tracing along the shell of his ear dips down and down to run along the length of his neck. The arms wrapped around him tighten and the hands shift and move over his robes.

Crawley keens. This is bliss.

Teeth bite into his neck. Deep.

Crawley shrieks.

He thrashes in the embrace of those arms, so tight around him that Crawley realises he _can’t escape the pain in his neck_. The hands dig into his robes, claws piercing fabric and flesh with ease. That chest pressed against his back rumbles again.

Lucifer’s teeth release Crawley’s flesh eventually, after he’s stopped thrashing and instead sobbed in pain, begging for his _Lord King! Stop! Please!_

Those teeth trace up the length of Crawley’s neck, back up to the shell of his ear. Crawley trembles.

“Wonderful,” Lucifer says and Crawley’s head is turned by a hand suddenly, harshly, and he can see the smile on Lucifer’s face.

That smile had been bright and gentle and beautiful. Now Crawley sees the poison beneath it.

There’s is no beauty in Lucifer. His form is an illusion. So too is his smile.

Crawley opens his mouth to scream but is silenced by Lucifer’s wide, grinning mouth descending on his. It smothers him, steals his breath and his scream and rejection.

All Crawley can do is shake and sob and bleed and _take what Lucifer gives him_.

He takes it even as Lucifer releases his hold of Crawley’s mouth and shoves him at the throne. His robe disappears before he slams into it with enough force to crack something, chest aching as he half falls into the seat of the throne. His legs are spread, hands pressed against the seat of the throne and before he can move, the heat of Lucifer’s body presses him down.

There is no cloth separating them. Lucifer is naked too.

He is bent over into the seat of Lucifer’s throne, his Lord King over him, pinning him down, and all Crawley can do is _take it_.

The claws the run down his back, digging deep into muscle and tissue, nicking bones and ligaments.

The teeth that burrow into the flesh at the base of Crawley’s neck, tearing down to nerves to release agony.

The burning heat of a too warm body that pushes down atop him and makes the wounds on his back _burn_.

Crawley can only scream and cry and writhe and beg. He can only take everything Lucifer hands him. He can’t say no; he’s already said _yes_.

Permission has been given. Now Crawley reaps what his permission has sown.

“I would take you as you are now, Crawley,” Lucifer pants into his ear, something hard and throbbing pressing down over Crawley’s arse and along his back. “I would have you spread here, _screaming_ as a split you open and give you a gift.” Teeth pierce the soft tissue of Crawley’s earlobe.

Crawley doesn’t have the breath to scream.

“But I want to _see you_ , Crawley.” Lucifer nips lightly at the bleeding earlobe. “I _will_ see you shatter on me, dear Crawley.”

Rough hands, careless of the claws that tear his skin, drag Crawley up and away from the throne. They spin him round and Crawley has a single second where he could try and claw his way to freedom before he’s shoved back. The second passes him by as the pain in his body has him stumble.

Lucifer’s hands push him back and back, down until he’s lying on his bleeding, wounded back, legs spread wide around Lucifer’s legs and Crawley realises then.

He realises what Lucifer is going to do.

He tries to struggle.

Lucifer holds him down easily. Leans down over him. Licks a strip of bloodied skin on his neck. Smiles.

"You _will_ take it, my dear Crawley," Lucifer croons in his ear even as his nails dig deep into Crawley's tender flesh.

Crawley is pinned in place, spread like a butterfly caught by a lepidopterist fascinated by his wings. He can't move with his legs spread so wide, forced that way by the thick thighs beneath him that stop him from drawing his legs together. His arms are useless, weak and thin and Crawley can only cling desperately at skin pulled over muscles of iron and steel.

All Crawley _can_ do is take it.

“You look so pretty like this, my dear Crawley,” Lucifer says, smiling and it’s a smile of teeth and no warmth. It’s the opposite of the angel that Crawley has a trace of now. “Desperate and weak, longing for the cock of your Lord King.”

Lucifer laughs.

“It’s a good look for you.”

Lucifer’s cock is heavy and hangs low, thicker than the form Lucifer has chosen to naturally possess. Crawley thinks that Lucifer has given himself such an organ _because_ of Crawley.

That’s not a good thought.

It’s not a bad one either.

Crawley trembles. The pain is robbing him of reason.

“Please,” he begs. Sobs.

Lucifer looks down at him. “Please?”

Crawley chokes on a sob. “Please- p-please my-my Lord! Please!”

He’s not sure what he’s begging for. The pain is stealing his mind. He aches. He’s not sure has ever _not_ ached. Surely his Lord King will grant him mercy. Surely he will sate whatever unquenchable thirst Crawley is possessed by.

Surely.

“Oh, my dear Crawley.” Lucifer leans down, lips hovering over Crawley’s own. His breath is hot. His eyes are bright. His hair falls down like black curtains on either side of his face, casting him and Crawley in shadow.

Crawley stares.

“How much you want me, to beg so prettily,” Lucifer murmurs, smiling. Crawley thinks his smile is like sunlight.

It’s like sunlight but it makes him feel _cold_.

“If only you weren’t tainted, Crawley,” Lucifer continues, softly. “I would give you such kindness now. But, Crawley, my dear Crawley. Liars must be punished.”

Lucifer leans back, presses his hips forward and Crawley- Crawley panics.

He's not even prepared and he knows it's going to be bad because of that, but Lucifer won't let him have kindness now. Not when Crawley is _tainted_ by the scent of an Angel that showed him kindness atop a wall when he should have shown him scorn.

Crawley can't escape because he deserves this. But how he _wishes_ he could. Wishes to be rewarded, not punished. Wishes. He wishes...

"Do you like it, Crawley, the way I thicken for you?" Lucifer laughs. He bites at Crawley's neck, making him flinch and try to pull away. It's a useless attempt at avoiding more pain that results in sharper teeth than Crawley has ever known piercing his corporation and ripping a howl from his throat.

The weight of Lucifer's cock is so much that it slides between Crawley’s thighs even as Lucifer ruts between his reddened cheeks, smearing sizzling pre-come as Lucifer's hips move and Crawley squirms.

"I will make you scream, Crawley, darling," Lucifer promises when his teeth relinquish Crawley's tender flesh. "You will be heard by Her Herself, I promise you that."

It's all the warning Crawley has to prepare himself before Lucifer lifts him up by his hips, above his cock, and slams him down upon it.

Skin tears. Muscles rupture. Blood flows.

And Crawley—

Crawley _screams_.

It’s so my worse than he ever thought it would be. So much. Too much.

His body is convulsing. His mind blinded by agony. There is noise and sensation but it’s all mixed up and there is _pain, pain, pain_.

Someone is grunting. Someone.

Lucifer.

“Now, now, dear, no disappearing from this,” a voice croons. Lucifer’s voice. “I want you to _remember every second_.”

Pure power, burning and beyond agonising, wraps around Crawley and _pulls_.

He comes back to his corporation with a howl so loud it makes the ceiling shake, stalactites falling from the force behind his howl.

“Wonderful! Wonderful, my dear Crawley!” Lucifer laughs above him, driving his hips forward, impossibly large cock ripping into Crawley.

Crawley howls again.

“You will be rewarded, dear, I promise,” Lucifer says, gripping Crawley’s hips tighter, pressing down on pelvic bones that crack from the strength. “You will be rewarded and you will _love it_.”

Crawley thrashes weakly, legs trembling, unable to move from the agony of his lower half. There is blood, he can feel it dripping down, pouring out of him like a river. Still Lucifer doesn’t stop.

His cock is long and wide, and grows wider the more he fucks Crawley. It presses against his insides with force and strength and _power_ enough to rob him of any words. His thoughts are a mess.

There is so much pain.

“You look like you need a hand, dear,” Lucifer says and through the haze of agony, Crawley can still pick up the mocking tone. “Let me.”

A hand, larger and clawed, wraps around the cock Crawley manifested for this corporation. It grips his limp length too tight and it’s a new type of pain that has Crawley’s back bow and his throat tear from a shriek so loud it could class as ultrasonic.

The hand loosens it grip just as the cock inside Crawley shifts. It grows, thickens, and then Crawley is writhing because he can _see it._ The skin of his stomach is distended with every thrust.

“Ah, I thought you would like that, Crawley,” Lucifer says, like he’s discussing the fucking _weather_ and not like his cock is rupturing Crawley’s insides. “I have more surprises for you, of course, but those are for later. Once your punishment is done.”

Lucifer’s hand on his cock starts to move, dragging the foreskin on it up and over the head, then down again. It’s the softest action Lucifer has performed thus far and Crawley focuses on it as the cock in his arse continues to break him in two.

It’s hard. The pain spikes and the agony of the friction when the blood in Crawley’s arse slows makes him whine and sob. But the constant, slow movements of Lucifer’s hand on his cock is mesmerising. Something builds in him.

Blood Crawley can ill afford wasting flows into his cock, thickening it and making every motion of Lucifer’s hand feel like a delicious torture. Lucifer’s cock slows down inside him, not gentling but not ruthlessly destroying him either.

Crawley gasps and moans as the opposite of pain builds, mixes with the aching throbbing of his body, and has the demon clawing at anything with his shaking hands.

Lucifer allows him to cling to his Lord King.

Crawley might be saying something or he may just be crying, he doesn’t know. The hand around his cock is relentless, still steadily moving at the same pace it has from the start and it’s agonising.

“Do you wish to release, Crawley?” Lucifer asks him, tilting his head down to look at Crawley’s cock. “Do you wish for me to help you spill your seed? Do you want me to _share_ with you, Crawley?”

Lucifer gently presses a kiss to Crawley’s sweat-soaked forehead. It’s the kindest touch Crawley has ever known from anyone.

“Yes, yes please, please let me! Please! Lu- Lucifer! My King! _Please_!”

Crawley gave his permission already. How can agreeing again he any worse?

“The longer I fuck you, the more your body will adapt to me, Crawley, it already is,” Lucifer says, snapping his hips forward sharply just as he twists his hand around Crawley’s cock.

Crawley comes with a silent cry.

Lucifer’s hand works his cock, fast and rough, as he pulls out and snaps his hips forward over and over, ploughing Crawley’s shaking, quivering mess of a body.

It’s so much sensation and Crawley could disappear in it but Lucifer has tethered his awareness to his body; he’s stuck experiencing it all. He can’t escape the ecstasy or the pain and it blends together the longer Lucifer fucks him.

The cock inside him grows bigger and thicker, like the release of Crawley’s orgasm has spurred some sort of change in it. His body tightens around it and Crawley can feel the head of Lucifer’s cock pushing into his stomach, raising the skin, with every powerful thrust. He’s lost to it but aware and Crawley sobs at it all.

“You will take my gift now, Crawley, my dear,” Lucifer pants, clawed hands gripping Crawley’s upper arms, claws piercing flesh and fingers brushing tender skin. Crawley can’t escape whatever gift Lucifer has for him so he just sobs and gasps and takes it. “You will- take it so- so _fucking well!_ ”

Lucifer slams in one final time and Crawley squeals as thick, hot fluid erupts inside his arse. It pushes through his body, up and up until it fills his stomach and Crawley moans at the thick fluid inside him. Lucifer’s hands move to Crawley’s hips and he pulls him down further onto his cock, ripping the air from Crawley’s lungs when _something_ pops into his hole.

It’s so big. So thick. He doesn’t.

Lucifer wiggles his hips, shifting the cock and _thing_ inside Crawley’s arse, making them both groan. Crawley’s entire body is a tense mess, shaking as the fluid just _doesn’t stop flowing into him_.

It’s so much.

“Look, Crawley, look,” Lucifer says softly, reaching out to Crawley’s face and tilting it down. “ _Look at you_.”

Crawley looks.

His stomach is distended, growing larger by the second and now that he’s seen it, Crawley whines at the discomfort. He hadn’t realised. _He hadn’t_ -

“You fill up so well, dear, you’ll do perfectly,” Lucifer croons, leaning down and licking the tears from Crawley’s cheeks. “I will have you like this many times, but this time. This one time, oh my dear Crawley. This is the beginning of the end times for humanity.”

Lucifer releases his hold of Crawley hips, the hand he had there coming up to rest lightly on Crawley’s distended stomach.

“This is my gift to you, Crawley,” Lucifer whispers, thrusting a little with his cock still buried deep inside Crawley. It makes Crawley mewl at the sensation. He’s so _full_.

“You will be my Whore of Babylon.” Lucifer closes the distance between their faces and kisses Crawley gently on the lips. “My seed will grow in you and you will have my cock regularly until it is ready to be born. I have blessed you, Crawley.”

Lucifer smiles down at him.

“Thank me.”

Crawley opens his mouth, tries to say something, _anything_ but he has no words. His mind cannot make words out loud.

His insides spasm at the realisation and Lucifer groans.

“That is your thanks,” he murmurs, still smiling down at Crawley who stares at him with golden eyes distorted by tears. “Then I shall value it greatly, Crawley.”

The thing in Crawley’s arse _deflates_ suddenly and Lucifer’s cock slides out with a stream of warm fluid. Crawley knows it’s not blood, not _his_ blood, but the sensation is so strange that he trembles and writhes weakly.

Lucifer, still smiling, tilts his head.

“Oh, we can’t have all of that going to waste now, dear,” he says conversationally. “Let me plug that up for you, shall I, until its seeped in properly.”

Crawley has a second of blessed freedom from the feeling of Lucifer pressing him down before he’s pulled up on weak legs, spun around and then dragged back as Lucifer sits on his throne and pulls Crawley into his lap.

The cock that had filled him up is hard beneath him and Crawley knows with a dreadful certainty what is about to happen. He’s too tired to stop it, though. All he can do is relax his body as much as possible and take it again.

Lucifer wastes no time in pushing back into Crawley’s hole, the fluid that Crawley realises is _Lucifer’s seed_ easing the way until Lucifer’s cock is nestled deeply in him again.

“There,” Lucifer says, hands delicately resting on Crawley’s hips. “That’s better isn’t it? All nice and full.”

Crawley wants to say _no_ but he can’t speak and he can’t refuse Lucifer now so all he does is nod weakly, body limp and exhausted.

From his position on Lucifer’s cock, in Lucifer’s _lap_ , Crawley can see how distended his stomach still is, even with the stream that came out when Lucifer’s cock did.

“You feel a little emptier than I’d like you to, Crawley dear,” Lucifer says softly into his ear. The cock inside him twitches. “Let me solve that for you.”

Crawley doesn’t make a sound, just lays his head back on Lucifer’s shoulder and let’s his Lord King do as he will.

Crawley said _yes_.

He can never say no now.

**Author's Note:**

> Rip Crawley’s arse, right.


End file.
